


Make of Our Skin

by Nife



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, More characters added later, More pairings later, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9544505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nife/pseuds/Nife
Summary: The Arena is not a good place. Blood, death & suffering stretch on without end and it's often used as execution grounds for political prisoners, dissidents and slaves who can't serve 'usefully' to the empire.Lotor hates this place but it's here that he learns something quite amazing





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I’m doing a shancelot building fic! Mainly because big epic stories are hard and this consists of many different parts with large time gaps rather than one whole.

Chapter 1: Meetings

When his father messaged him with something as stupid as an invite to the emperor’s private booth in the arena, Lotor had blown him off entirely. Watching beings, often slaves or political prisoners, have to fight someone far stronger was not his thing. He didn’t have the stomach for it.

Once upon a time neither did his father, the emperor.

Those days were long gone, leaving the whole damned universe with a dictator who was as tyrannical as he was wretched.

The second time he was invited he actually got a video call, his father’s quintessence warped face staring at him as he drunkenly lounged in his chair.

Nothing was spoken but Lotor could feel the judgement all the same. Annoying as it might have been he’d long passed the care about what his father thought of his life choices and was quite content to let him scowl.

Lotor took another swig before lazily thumping his drink down on the floor.

“Yes, my emperor?” he only barely managed to withhold his sarcasm.

“I see you are still wasting the life your mother gave everything for.” Zarkon nearly snipped but the low-lying growl ruined the effect.

‘Well I could be ruining the universe she died trying to protect, but I feel I should only disappoint one of her expectations.’ Ah if only he was brave enough to say that out loud. As it were he knew his father’s temper and too high pride would see him spend another six years in some far-flung, All Father forsaken part of the empire if he mouthed off again.

Which sucked because rarely was there enough booze to drown out his mind.

“Sorry my emperor, I wasn’t expecting the call.” Lotor lied, they both knew it but it was better than the old and bloodied truth so they both believed it.

“It matters not,” good, dismissal, better than trying to get him to think, “I would like you to attend with me to an upcoming arena match.”

“The drink they serve is terrible.” Lotor nearly whined, if only because he had literally no interest in going and even the most pitiable excuse would suffice if it got him out of going.

“Then don’t drink,” Zarkon answered easily and Lotor near groaned.

“The food is also terrible, everyone is ugly and I fail at picking the right fighter to win the match.” Lotor waved his hand, more brazen but still without any real heat.

“Then don’t eat,” Zarkon shot down the excuse as easily as the last one, “and don’t bet.”

“Then what’s the point?” Lotor asked sighing miserably as though those were the greatest woes for anyone to face.

“There is something here I think you would like to see,” Zarkon answered.

“I seriously doubt the arena has anything to offer me that I would enjoy... father.” Lotor tagged the last word on in hopes that it might win some favour.

“Come and see for yourself,” Zarkon replied easily, “Perhaps my latest acquisition might peak your… interest.”

“I highly doubt it ,” Lotor grumbled.

“Lotor!” Zarkon finally snapped, knocking the younger galran out of his stupor, “I will make this an order.”

“Of course.” Well, that sucked. Now he really didn’t have a choice and he’d have to show up sober. Righting himself in his seat and running a hand through sweat and grime soaked hair, and wincing at the knots and general gross feel, Lotor glanced at the screen. “Your will is mine to serve my lord. When is the date of the fight, or whatever you call it.”

“Match, I will forward you all the information.” Zarkon replied, “I expect to see the crown prince of the Galran empire there.”

Lotor did a half-assed salute, “Vrepit-sa,” and hung up. All Mother have mercy on him. He wasn’t sure why his father was bothering him for something so stupid.

He was certain it was going to be entirely painful.

-

Painful wasn’t quite the word. Debilitating? Excruciating? Something worse?

This was the worst, most lopsided, stupid ‘fight’ he’d ever seen. Some poor prisoner had to fight one of the ugliest and meanest looking brasta ever. The prisoner was some bipedal species who clearly was expected to die, they hadn’t even given him more than some crude weapon.

Lotor didn’t want to watch, it was making his stomach churn. This is why he hated the arena.

“Not interested your lordship?” Haggar asked, and boy wasn’t it a joy that he got to share this stupid seat with the worst person in the universe.

“If I wanted to watch a slaughter I would have gone to a butcher.” Lotor sighed, not bothering to mask the irritation in his tone from her.

“The prisoner has already won four such matches against opponents of this calibre.” She replied easily, completely unruffled

Slowly Lotor rolled his eyes, well aware the witch couldn’t see it through his helmet. He barely spared a glance to the pit where the smaller being avoided being crushed by the large opponent’s hammer. “That so? Why keep pitting him against such strong enemies then?”

“He’s racking up some sponsors and they want to know they’re getting their value’s worth.” Haggar chortled as if screwing around with people like this wasn’t completely twisted.

“Right, of course.” Lotor sighed and leant forward in his seat to inspect the creature more closely. Two legs, two arms, a torso and head. Also, his skin was a really pale…brown? Too much blood to really tell.

“There’s even rumours that a particular king of the Albion cluster has taken an interest…” Haggar smiled at him and, while it took a moment, Lotor finally caught on.

“That guy? Doesn’t he have like half a dozen fighters already?” Lotor grumbled. “He’s such a shlinger.”

“Indeed. He’s also quite the patron.” Haggar cackled, clapping when the smaller being managed to again avoid getting crushed, even getting a cut at the screeching brasta.

“I bet,” Lotor muttered, trying to study the being and understand why anyone would put money into them. They were tiny, dwarfed especially in the pit. Agile though and clearly a quick thinker, a strategist of a sort. Sitting up straighter Lotor watched the being run straight at a pillar, away from the lumbering brasta and… up? What?

Lotor whooped when the being leapt from the pillar and stabbed the brasta in the shoulder, dragging it all the way down it’s back before ripping the blade out and leaping away from its flailing body.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself son.” the low tenor of the voice startled Lotor, eyes wide as they snapped over to his father.

“I… they don’t usually have fighters of his calibre here,” Lotor said, straightening himself, willing his face to a more neutral gaze.

“Indeed they do not,” Zarkon replied, and while likely a part of a far-flung fantasy Lotor thought he almost saw a smile. “Perhaps you’d like a closer inspection of him once the match is done?”

Two times in a row, it had been awhile since his father and he had gotten anywhere near this close to a conversation. At least one that didn’t end with them screaming at each other, which always ended with Lotor locked up somewhere.

Fun times.

Haggar cackled as the prisoner killed the brasta. Lotor didn't care to watch though he was pleased it wasn't the being that had died.

“Champion! Champion!” the crowd cheered, shouting and roaring in their bloodlust induced glee.

It made Lotor a little ill and more than fervently wish he’d managed to steal more alcohol into this stupid place.

Even his father seemed to get into the act.

Lotor just had ugly pains of sympathy.

The being looked straight up at the hovering drone.

Suddenly those pains turned from red hot to freezing shock.

“Mother’s… people.” the words were barely muttered.

Haggar smirked beside him while his father became quieter.

“Arrange a meeting father,” Lotor stated it might have been a request? He didn’t know as he couldn’t hear his tone over the blood rushing past his ears.

-

Winning meant he got to live a while longer. Living meant there was a chance he could escape this hell-hole and find Matt and Sam. They could all then return to Earth and get the Galaxy Garrison to-

To-

Fight?

They had to fight. This terrible empire could, would come crashing down upon them! They had to fight with everything they had!

They would fight!

Shiro tried to refocus his thoughts as he was lead out of the arena, but dazedly it just circled around back.

His feet hurt, kicking that- whatever it was called in the leg was a bad idea. He hoped he hadn’t cracked any bones. Who knew when he’d be tossed back in and if it didn’t have time to heal he’d-

Where was he? This wasn’t the way to his cell. He’d memorised that path in the first two days he’d been here.

Startled Shiro looked around, gasping but they just pulled him along as if his steps had never faltered. Asking where they were taking him would just end with him knocked him out.

He'd not be able to count steps or know the direction they went.

They came up to a big and oddly ornate looking door, considering the rest of the hall looked rather mundane. His attention snapped to his guards when they stood rigidly at attention. A big cheese then, someone higher up the rank then the last group of puffed up beings he’d been paraded in front of.

Also, he wasn’t wearing a muzzle…and hadn’t been at least rudimentarily hosed down.

This didn’t bode well.

“My lord we’ve brought the gladiator from the arena!” the guard to his left announced. Shiro could feel the vibration from the man’s tremors.

“Bring him in.” a deep voice answered. Without any more preamble, he was dragged inside.

The guards seem to have been expecting someone else because, as before, he can feel the falter in their confusion. All three pairs of eyes land on a person standing in a relaxed parade stance with their back turned to him.

“My lord Lotor!” One guard exclaims, “We’re sorry… we thought your father-”

“Thought what? The only thoughts you should direct towards our emperor is that of loyalty and servitude.” the masked figure replied. “Leave him and go.”

The two could not be quicker to obey, bowing as they stepped back from either side of Shiro and slipping out as quickly as they’d entered.

Leaving him here, shackled, bloodied and bruised with a being who was equal parts tall and terrifying.

“It is a good thing they are merely arena guards or they’d have lost their heads long ago.” this ‘Lord Lotor’ muttered, walking over and pouring a reddish amber looking liquid into a glass. “Is the chain around your feet long enough that you might walk?”

It took a moment before Shiro realised the question was directed to him, rather than about him. “I- yes?” he clumsily replied.

“Then sit.” the masked figure gestured to a chair. It looked soft, even sort of delicate.

Shiro was covered in blood.

It must have been an amusing sight since Lotor chuckled rather than just slapped him and hoped he landed on the seat.

This was starting to make his head spin.

“Stand if you prefer.” Lotor shrugged easily, walking over to a chaise looking chair of his own and nearly draping himself over it. “You fought well today.”

“Yes… sir.” he was so used to be talked at or being gagged in some way that this whole conversation was just too much for him to process.

“You look confused,” Lotor said, feet ticking back and forth. Perhaps a sign of nerves? Shiro’s leg would do that when he was excited sometimes. It used to annoy Matt.

As if punched, his capacity to try to understand this strange situation vanished.

“You best sit down before you fall down.” Lotor tried again, sounding a bit more irritated.

Without giving it much will or thought Shiro complied, legs trembling as every ache sunk in.

“If you’re going to be ill I’d prefer you do it in this bucket,” Lotor said, placing his drink down on a floating tray before standing and emptying a waste basket or something of its sort, and bringing it over.

Shiro didn’t even respond, just looked at the masked figure as if he would attack him.

“Are you capable of speaking now or shall I give you another minute?” Lotor asked.

“What would you have me say?” Shiro managed, at last, to speak.

“Well, I might start with what your name is and what your species is called,” Lotor answered with a shrug. He put the basket down within reach and sat down again on his chair. “I assume those questions aren’t too much?”

“Why?” Shiro asked, his head beginning to spin anew. No one had cared for any of that information. All of the beings he’d met cared for, at best, was what he could do and how well he fought.

“Well…” Lotor replied, reaching for what Shiro assumed were latches to his helmet, flipping them then pulling the whole thing off. “Mostly because you and I look a lot alike.”

Shock jolted through Shiro like he’d been hooked to a live wire. Sitting there was what looked like a male, dark skinned human. The only things that gave him away as not entirely human were the way sclera glowed a near lilac and the slightly unusual structure of his cheekbones.

“A- what?” Shiro gasped, eyes wide.

“Your name,” Lotor asked again, “and your species.”

“Shiro… human.” Shiro answered, unable to do much else aside from gap.

“Human…” Lotor seemed to roll the word over his teeth, tasting it. “Hm, well ah, Shiro.” An odd sensation trickled over Shiro, as though he could taste a sudden shift in mood. The human looking person almost looked like he was struggling to get his words in proper order.

This couldn’t be real, Shiro had to have passed out from blood loss somewhere.

“I have a… proposition for you.” Lotor finally managed to say, voice steady but the light buzz still filled the air making Shiro’s nose itch. “When I attend these matches you will come to my chambers… and you will tell me about your people.”

“No deal!” Shiro snapped, standing. He would not give these alien bastards even one shred of information! Sam, Mat and himself had agreed!

Lotor just looked annoyed, muttering to himself. “I meant as in…stories…? What’s the word?” he grabbed his drink and took a large swig. “I want to hear …culture things.”

“You want me to tell you fairytales?” Shiro squawked, unable to keep up with the strangeness of these events.

“I don’t know what that is,” Lotor answered. “Look, I haven’t ever seen anyone who looks even remotely like myself in …a very long time.” he sighed and took another drink. “I would like to hear about your people.”

“And how do I know this information doesn’t get back to …whoever is running this…this-” Shiro struggled for the words.

“Cesspool? Dank rotten pit? Valley of lost souls?” Lotor supplied snorting humorlessly.

“What? Yes! No, wait- what?!” It was official, reality had turned on its head and wouldn't be righting itself anytime soon.

“I’ll make it simple for you …human.” Lotor stood, walking over to Shiro and completely towering over him. “I would like to hear about your culture. Stories and things of that nature. It doesn’t have to be ‘militarily strategic locals’ or whatever else you think you’re defending from me. Just what kinds of things you eat and how your people entertain themselves.”

“Seriously?” Shiro asked again, trying to not cringe away from Lotor’s intimidating figure, quickly calculating how easily the larger being could kill him. He did not like the odds.

“Seriously.” Lotor sighed, running a hand through his hair, real human hair that was curly and dark brown. Like so many humans back on Earth.

“And… what do I get in exchange for this information?” Shiro asked, suddenly realising he had something in his corner. A bargaining chip of the strangest kind. From a man that was the most unusual being he’d met since being kidnapped by aliens, and he’d once spoken with a guy that looked like a velociraptor.

“Hm, well I can offer you what I have here. Use of the bath for one thing.” Lotor said, leaning slightly away from him and well, Shiro hadn’t even been hosed down in days so he couldn’t blame him. “A drink? Food? The ability to use your name?”

They were all such simple things that he’d have had on Earth and with his crew on Kerberos. Now they were all like precious jewels that he wanted to hoard. A bath? With soap and real water, or at least something equivalent? Being called Shiro instead of the champion?

He wanted it all so much but…

“And all you want is stories?” Shiro asked, studying Lotor’s face with full scrutiny.

“Well, that and for you not to take advantage of my kindness.” Lotor shrugged. “If you try to use your time here to escape then it will end and you will suffer the consequences.”

“I see,” Shiro responded.

“Perhaps you’d like a taste? I have a bath you could use in this suite.” Lotor suggested.

“And you’ll let me use it?” Shiro asked.

“Not unsupervised, but yes.” Lotor answered.

No need to poke and invoke an ill temper, as his mother used to say. Or to look a gift horse in the mouth, that was Keith who’d said it…wasn’t it?

Why was it getting hard to remember this?

“Alright.” It didn’t matter right now. Now he wanted a bath.

“Follow me and take off those rags. I’ll have something more appropriate made for you to wear, at least when you’re here.” Lotor stepped away from him and to a wall that opened though he hadn’t even seen a seam for a doorway.

Without any real strain, Shiro managed to get everything off. Apparently, this one piece suit was made for people in cuffs, a disturbing food for thought. Naked, still caked in blood and sweat Shiro moved over into the bathroom.

Inside Lotor had apparently done just as he’d said and prepared a bath, to put it lightly. The tub was full of steaming hot and cloudy water, oil or a soap of some description making the surface shimmer.

“It’s ready for you Shiro,” Lotor said, testing the water with his hand, using his name as if he'd already agreed to this deal.

Shiro wasn’t sure what to think about it so he just didn’t. Right now everything in his body ached to get into the tub and just soak.

“Come here and I’ll undo the foot cuffs,” Lotor gestured and shuffling over Shiro complied, “though the handcuffs will remain.” The tone almost sounded apologetic as the man kneeled and deactivated the restraints.

Everything was almost surreal, this tall creature kneeling and- he couldn't keep up.

Then he was sliding into the blissfully hot water so it didn't matter.

A moan echoed around the room as Shiro sunk into the tub, not stopping till his chin touched the water.

“Ah good, just enough water then,” Lotor mentioned absently, watching him with- actually Shiro couldn’t identify the emotion. Not lust or even really thoughtfulness just strange.

Shiro averted his eyes and just let his body relax, soaking in the warmth and feel of whatever liquids he was sitting in.

This water was heavenly. He didn’t remember a time when he’d felt half as good, even during his more adventurous days as a teenager, finding whatever pleasures he could wrap his hands around.

He shuddered at the thought and despite these much different circumstances, a spike of arousal shot through him. Thankfully the liquid was completely opaque otherwise, Lotor would have gotten an eyeful….

Speaking of.

The man leant against the wall, studying Shiro but lacking any kind of scrutiny. Actually, it was hard to see any kind of emotion at all from his host and yet he knew the man was paying attention, following every little move Shiro made.

Shiro wasn’t sure if it made him feel uncomfortable or not.

While he contemplated another thought occurred to him. There had to be some sort of time limit to how long he spent here with Lotor. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to be clean, he dunked his head under the water.

In less that the second he'd been under Lotor had moved from the wall and had even taken a step towards him, a shocked look on his face.

Suddenly the urge to apologise and explain shot up and twisted his stomach.

Before he could get a word out edgewise Lotor asked, “Would you like me to wash your hair?”

As if it were a simple request and didn’t have some massive undertones.

Though to Lotor perhaps it was just that.

Blinking away the water drops from his eyes Shiro scrutinised his ‘host’. Nothing from his poise to his face gave a single emotion away.

He’d hate to face the guy in a poker match.

Well if Lotor wanted to do him harm he had no real retaliation. Shiro could fight back, he supposed, but it wouldn’t end well.

He briefly thought of Sam’s advice about hesitating and missing opportunities, humorlessly deciding it probably didn't apply here.

No point in over thinking it then, Shiro nodded and tried not to tense when Lotor walked over, grabbing something off the shelf along the way.

“Sit up.” again he could sense that it was almost a request, a small shift that neither reflected in tone or body language and yet was felt all the same. He complied.

“Tell me if it stings or if the smell is not to your liking,” Lotor stated and poured some of the viscous liquid into his hair. The smell was powerful but not unpleasant. Like a vegetable oil or something as organic as well as a herb-ish scent.

Slowly clawed hands massaged the shampoo into his scalp. The sensation was pleasant, which was again surprising. Slowly the crusted blood, sweat and whatever else he’d been left to stew in since his last hosing, came away.

It was refreshing, relieving and just-

That spike of arousal turned up again, he could feel it shudder up his spine, despite Lotor’s hands being nowhere near any erogenous zones. It had been so long since anyone had touched him without malicious intent.

Either Lotor didn’t understand or didn’t care what this was doing to Shiro, he just kept working the soap in. There wasn’t even a stutter to his movement when Shiro let out what sounded like a whine.

Shiro cared, the blush blotching his face turning scarlet. No way in hell did he mean lose himself to something as simple as washing his hair!

He meant to pull away and ask for Lotor to stop touching him when Lotor beat him to it, hands flicking soap off. The larger man reached over to a weird looking handheld device and turning it on.

“Let me know if this hurts at all,” and then the item was in his hair, massaging him with what Shiro thought must have been some kind of electricity. Only it didn’t immediately murder him. He was soaking wet but this thing pulsed and-

Oh god, if Shiro thought the hands had been good this was like- well it lit all his nerves up in a way that could only be one of the best damned feelings he’d ever experienced.

Slowly he opened his eyes, lazily rolling them about the room. Must he have blacked out? 

Lotor was doing something with Shiro’s prisoner suit.

He couldn’t remember, only that it felt…

He wanted more, god help him Shiro desired it.

“Awake?” Lotor asked, not turning to him but noticing he'd awoken all the same. “I put it on the lowest setting but your quintessence was severely twisted so it’s no wonder that even a couple ticks with it would put you out.”

“Whu-?” Shiro mumbled, lips almost numb and mind trying to orientate itself.

“It doesn’t matter.” Lotor waved pulling the garment out of whatever machine it was in and looking it over. “Your …uniform is cleaned and mended. No sense in having you cleaned up only to throw you back into that horrible mess.”

“Buh-?” Yeah, he wasn’t going to be much of a talker right now.

It only seemed to amuse Lotor who smiled at him faintly.

“You will return to yourself shortly, then you will get dried off,” Lotor explained, “and after you are dressed that will be all our time for today. Consider my offer and when I return I will have you brought to me to give me your answer.”

Another statement almost question.

It was starting to make an odd sense to Shiro. That was concerning since none of this really should.

Eventually, his ability to move and think did return and, while still under the steady gaze of Lotor, he stood up and looked around. There were no towels. Surely Lotor wouldn’t go to all the trouble cleaning his clothes only to-

With another twinkling of his eyes, that soft look returned, “Right, forgot you’ve never had the luxury of proper bathing since you got here.” He gestured with his chin to a small machine sitting on a floating plater. “Take that and press the yellow button, the rest is automated.”

Blinking owlishly at the device Shiro did as told, jumping slightly when it leapt from his hand and flew in a tight circle around him. Laser-like lights of a green hue lit up and with barely more than a moment he was dry as a bone.

“Wow.” Shiro gasped, checking himself over. “What… how?”

“It removed the molecules from your body,” Lotor explained with a shrug. “Any that weren’t a part of your person. Anything loose.”

“That’s…uhm.” Amazing, shocking? Shiro marvelled at how much lighter he felt.

What was probably the most shocking was the fact that Lotor just casually did all these kindnesses and hadn’t asked for a single thing in return yet.

Perhaps he was getting something that Shiro didn’t understand? No, he couldn’t even speculate since none of this made any damned sense.

“Get dressed, it’s time for you to go.” and Shiro nodded and complied, slipping into the outfit as easily as he’d slipped out. Lotor led him out back into the main room and gestured to the chair Shiro had sat in before.

Complying Shiro sat, Lotor walking over and putting the cuffs back on his feet. He held one leg easily, running a clawed finger over the arch of his foot.

“They should make these a little better,” Lotor muttered, releasing the appendage and moving a distance away. “Stand.”

Vacantly Shiro nodded and obeyed, watching as Lotor replaced his helmet.

Soon after two guards, Shiro vaguely recalled them as the ones from before, entered. With little more than a salute to Lotor they took Shiro away.

Unceremoniously Shiro was dumped into his cell, which was oddly empty, and given a platter of food stuff. It was grey and tasted terrible and hurt his stomach but it was better than starving.

Quietly he ate, thinking about this very strange encounter.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Yeeeeeeah, Shiro came in the tub. =3c
> 
> So this is my first venture and wild speculation as to how Lotor might be. As of right now, he’s more of a person stuck in an absolute shit situation that he can neither really embrace nor escape from.
> 
> I will and do not, because of its inherent nature, portray this relationship of Shiro/Lotor in any way healthy or good. Lotor is using Shiro in a sense but even if that wasn’t true you can not have one partner have absolute power over the other and call it ‘healthy’ (I’m looking at you Cullen from Dragon Age).
> 
> This entire thing will be random encounters as their ‘relationship’ develops. Eventually, it’ll go into Shance then Lancelot then finally shancelot (which is what’s planned but we’ll see).
> 
> Parts of this will be in comic form as I use whatever medium is best to express what I’m trying to say.


End file.
